


The Orphans' Christmas Party

by Small_Hobbit



Series: Twelve Days of Christmas plus A Few [3]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 14:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13125351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: When it looks like the servicemen's orphans will miss out on their party, Holmes (and the Ferret) come to the rescue.





	The Orphans' Christmas Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SCFrankles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCFrankles/gifts).



“I quite agree, Lestrade, it shouldn’t have been allowed to happen,” Sherlock Holmes said.  “Leave it to me and I will take care of it.”

Inspector Lestrade, looking slightly less angry than when he had arrived at Baker Street, departed.  He nodded curtly to Mrs Hudson on his way out and left, shutting the outside door firmly behind him.

Mrs Hudson placed the tea tray on the table.  “At least he didn’t slam the door this time,” she said.  “Poor man, he did seem very upset when he arrived.”

“And hardly surprising at that,” Holmes replied.  “It’s as well Watson is out at the moment; I suspect he would have been even angrier.”

“Can you do something about it?”

“Yes, but it may take some thought.”

“Just so long as you don’t set fire to anything while you’re thinking,” Mrs Hudson said pointedly.  She passed him a cup of tea.  “I’ll bring up some more hot water when the Doctor returns.”

As soon as Mrs Hudson had left Holmes was joined by the Gang, who had been listening from within his bedroom.

“How heartless can you get?” the Ocelot asked.  “Arrange a party for the children of servicemen’s widows, promise them an entertainer plus a present from Father Christmas – quite likely the only present they will get - and finally take money from the widows to pay for the party tea.”

“Then use the pretext of storing the presents as a cover for stolen goods, and pocket the money,” the Sloth finished off, the Ocelot apparently being struck speechless by the callousness of the thieves.

“Mr Holmes, we can’t leave the poor little children with nothing,” Aemelia said.  She wiped a tear with her paw.

“Of course not, Aemelia,” Holmes said.  “But we don’t have much time, and most people have already given to other charities, so may not be keen to help us.”

There was a knock on the door and Holmes shouted out, “I’m thinking!”  This meant “I have strewn paper and other objects all over the floor; it would be unwise to enter”.

Esme called out, “Mrs Hudson says she can make a few trays of little cakes, and Mrs Turner will do sausage rolls, and they’ve told some of the other landladies nearby to volunteer as well.  We won’t let the poor little mites miss out on their tea.”

“Thank you, Esme,” Holmes shouted back.  Then more quietly he added, “That’s one thing sorted; which leaves the entertainment and the presents.”

Aemelia and Mouselet conferred before Aemelia said, “We could make rag dolls for the girls, each with their own special outfit.”

“Would you have time?” Holmes asked.  “There’s less than a week.”

Aemelia drew herself up to her full three inches.  “So long as you can provide us with the material, we will guarantee the presents will be ready.”

“Peg dolls,” the Sloth said.

“What?  No, rag dolls,” Mouselet replied.

The Sloth looked confused.  “Yes, of course, rag dolls for the girls.  But it might be possible to paint peg dolls for the boys to make soldiers.  Although I’m not sure whether the Ferret should help.”

“It depends how multi-coloured a ferret we want,” Mouselet said.

The Ferret looked affronted.  “I am a performer, not an artist.  But if needs be I shall do my bit.”

“I doubt that will be necessary,” Holmes said.  “Watson and I can paint some of them, and if Lestrade has time he would no doubt help.”

“And I’m sure Mrs Hudson would be happy for Billy to lend a hand, and Mrs Turner’s Freddy,” the Ocelot added.  “Although you’d have to ensure they washed their hands afterwards, or they’ll be as multi-coloured as the Ferret.”

“So we now have plans for both the tea and the presents, which only leaves the entertainment.  And I believe the Ferret and I can take care of that.”

*****

“Right, children, if you all come and sit down I have a story to tell you,” Sherlock Holmes began.

Most of the children rushed to sit at Holmes’ feet, whilst one or two of the littlest clung to their mothers’ hands and were brought over.  The ladies took chairs and sat the youngsters on their laps.

“Sadly,” Holmes continued, “I was only able to bring one of my special puppets with me today.”  The Ferret, wearing a cloth bag with holes cut for his head and front legs took a bow.  “So I’m hoping you will help me by taking the roles of the ugly sisters and the handsome prince, for this is Cinderella.”  This time the Ferret remembered to curtsey.

It wasn’t the most professional of shows, for there had been little time to rehearse and the Ferret struggled a bit in changing from his ball gown to his rags, but it all added to the fun, and by the end of the story the children and their mothers were all laughing happily.

Tea followed.  Mrs Hudson and her team had done themselves proud, and there was even enough left over for little bags to be made up for people to take home.

After which, there was a knock on the door and Holmes let in a large jovial man carrying a sack.  There were squeals of excitement as the children recognised Father Christmas.  Holmes encouraged the children to sit in a circle and called them up one at a time to receive their present.

The Ocelot had printed out a label for each child, which was tied round the dolls’ waists and the necks of the bags of soldiers.  As each child came up they told Father Christmas their name; he would look in the sack and produce the correct present.

At least, that was the theory.  The Ferret was also in the sack, passing up the presents.  Every so often Father Christmas would look in the sack and say, “Dear, dear, sack, Jack is not a girl’s name, whatever are you thinking?” The children would all giggle, the Ferret would rummage around a bit more, and pass up what was hopefully the correct present.

There was nearly a disaster when there appeared to be only one present left and two children, but it turned out the Ferret had been sitting on the last doll.  Fortunately, the little girl didn’t notice how warm the doll was, or that the dress was slightly furry, and everyone was happy.

Then it was time for Father Christmas to leave, and Holmes said he would be going too, to make sure Father Christmas got safely back to his sleigh.  Everyone stood up and waved, and there were a chorus of thank you’s.

Once outside, Holmes hailed a cab, and he and Father Christmas got in.  Holmes then helped Father Christmas remove the red coat he had been wearing.

“Thank you, Mycroft, that went extremely well,” Holmes said.

“All in all, brother, I think we can indeed consider it a success,” Mycroft replied.  “Even if my assistant did have some trouble reading the labels.”

“It was dark in there,” the Ferret said, popping out of the sack.  He was still wearing his ball gown.

Mycroft, who hadn’t seen the performance, looked slightly confused. 

“I,” the Ferret announced, “am the Ghost of Christmas Presents.”

“Do you know,” Mycroft said.  “I somehow doubt this is quite how Mr Dickens imagined his character being portrayed.  But nonetheless, Ferret, you did an admirable job.”

 

 

 


End file.
